Beneath that tree, while yet it was a tree, With thistle-beards, and such small locks of wool As hang on brambles. Well, he brought him home, A pretty boy, but most unteachable And never learnt a prayer, nor told a bead, But knew the names of birds, and mocked their notes, And whistled, as he were a bird himself: And all the autumn 'twas his only play To gather seeds of wild flowers, and to plant them time Lived chiefly at the Convent or the Castle. So he became a very learned youth. But, Oh! poor wretch-he read, and read, and read, And though he prayed, he never loved to pray But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet, The late Lord Velez ne'er was wearied with him. And once, as by the north side of the Chapel They stood together, chained in deep discourse, The earth heaved under them with such a groan, That the wall tottered, and had well-nigh fallen Right on their heads. My Lord was sorely frightened; A fever seized him, and he made confession Of all the heretical and lawless talk Which brought this judgment: so the youth was seized And cast into that cell. My husband's father Sobbed like a child-it almost broke his heart: And once as he was working near the cell How sweet it were on lake or wild savannah, Leoni doted on the youth, and now His love grew desperate; and defying death, MARIA. 'Tis a sweet tale. And what became of him? FOSTER-MOTHER. He went on ship-board, With those bold voyagers who made discovery Of golden lands. Leoni's younger brother Went likewise; and when he returned to Spain, He told Leoni, that the poor mad youth, |